The Big Green Guy Scenario
by Steve61
Summary: David Banner and the Hulk's paths cross with Ralph Hinkley and Bill Maxwell's, when they're on a mission to stop a Russian arms dealer. The Hulk versus the Hero...who will win?


Ralph didn't like it when he tried to land properly, but ended up crash landing.

He hated crash landing inside a dumpster even more.

"Ralph! Ralph, are ya there! Fontaine's high-tailing it!" came Bill Maxwell's voice over the small communicator Ralph had up the sleeve of his super-suit. "Nail 'em, kid! He's making a break for it out the back into the alleyway!"

"All right, all right, Bill! I'm there now!" Ralph groaned, climbing out of the dumpster. And sure enough, a panicked suspected-mobster ran out of the emergency exit into the alleyway behind the New Wave Lights nightclub.

"Hey! You! Freeze!" Ralph called out in his most forceful tone.

Fontaine froze for a second, expecting a cop, but a moment later, despite his earlier panic, he actually smiled!

"Who're you supposed to be?" the crook chuckled. "Long-Johns-Man?"

Ralph blushed, embarrassed for the two hundredth time at the superhero costume he was wearing. It was bestowed upon him by aliens that sought to keep Earth safe, but they must have either had a cruel sense of humor, or had been watching too many Saturday morning cartoon shows, because it was straight out of the comic books. Tight-fitting and mostly red with white piping along the waist and boots, his black cape with red piping frequently was a nuisance to Ralph, but the lack of a mask only perpetuated his embarrassment. This superheroing job would have been a heckuva lot easier with a Spider-Man-type of mask to ensure his anonymity.

Instead, he was usually the butt of jokes and ridicule.

And the occasional gun.

Fontaine pointed his straight at Ralph, but being bullet-proof offered Ralph's a measure of confidence in battle. He took three steps towards the crook, when suddenly an explosion of sound and chunks of concrete enveloped him. Only the super-suit saved his life as the brick wall of the club smashed into his body and head at explosive force.

Ralph was buried under chunks of debris, seeing stars, and weighed down onto the dirty alleyway, his head spinning from the multiple impacts. And then he heard it.

An animalistic roar and growl.

The delirium he was experiencing told him that he was hearing things, that it couldn't be real, even if there were screams of people around him as they responded to another roar. His vision fuzzy and head spinning, he turned around onto his back and caught a fleeting glimpse of a large figure in the shadows bounding away into the street, right past a shaken Fontaine. The crook high-tailed it a second later, running away in the opposite direction of the giant man Ralph imagined that he saw.

"Kid! Kid, where're- oh. Ooooh, Ralph."

Ralpha Hinkley could swear he heard his friend and partner, Bill Maxwell, walk over to him, but he blacked out a second later.

When he woke up, he was in Bill's car, and there was no sign of Fonmtaine, the huge running guy, or the screaming people in the club.

National Register reporter Jack McGee wasn't having too much fun or luck as he checked out apartments over some stores across the street from the CLUB, looking for witnesses to last night's Hulk sighting.

Those that he found willing to answer their doors were able to be equally divided between categories; nasty...

"What?! Whatwhatwhatwhat?! Whadaya want?! I'm missing _'The Price Is Right'!"_

...and weirdo...

"Yes, I saw the Hulk. He was running around tearing things apart! I think he actually ate a man! Like that old song- 'The Purple People Eater! The Hulk eats people, right?"

It got to the point where he hoped he'd find someone who didn't see anything, or didn't want to even answer the door.

The next place he came upon had a door left ajar, so he gently pushed it open a few inches, noticed that there was virtually no furniture inside, but heard a couple quiet voices inside.

"Hellooo?" he asked, rapping the door gently, and stepping inside, expecting to find a superintendent or janitor inside.

Instead what he found were two men in suits with a set-up that included a radio, empty sandwich wrappers and cold coffee, both of whom were using binoculars to spy on someone across the street. They spun around, making eye contact with the intruder, one of them yanking out his gun from his holster and pointing it at him.

"Whoops! Sorry! Wrong apartment! Carry on!" McGee gasped, trying to close the door behind him, except that a forceful voice shouted at him,

"Freeze, buster! Get back in here! Now!"

McGee reluctantly did so, one of the men dashing over and closing the door behind McGee, who tried to act nonchalant about the whole thing.

"Ya know, I think I got the wrong place! And I didn't see anything anyway, so-?"

"Your I.D. Let's have it," the younger of the two men demanded, holding out a hand. McGee reluctantly pulled out his wallet and showed the man his card. "McGee, Jack. National Register reporter."

"Aw, geez, a word-slinger!" the older one groaned, rubbing his face. He looked McGee up and down and asked, "What the hell are ya doing here, mister?"  
"I could ask you the same thing," McGee smirked, feeling two seconds of bravery until the older gentlemen flashed an FBI identification card. "Uh, just following up some leads. About that commotion at the CLUB last night."

" , you've entered an official FBI stakeout post," the older one, Agent Bill Maxwell his I.D. had said. "We could easily have you arrested for interference."

"Who's interfering?! I'm an American citizen and I have rights! But something tells me that you've looking for something other than what I am."

"Which is?" asked another FBI agent, Langford.

McGee paused and responded simply, "The Hulk."

"Oh, brother!" Maxwell groaned, making his way back to the window. "Let him go, Langford. The guy's a certifiable nut-job!"

"But, he saw-"

"Nothin'! Let him go, so we don't have to explain ourselves to Carlisle! The guy's looking for something as real as the Tooth Fairy!"

Jack saw that as his exit strategy, and simply relieved that he escaped being arrested for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, he left, and kept going all the way out of the storefront block...and across the street. Watched by Maxwell and Langford, the two FBI agents had had enough with the snooping reporter.

"He'll ruin everything by drawing attention to himself like that, stopping every Tom, Dick, or Harry for a lead! Stay here, Langford. I'll handle this."

Bill Maxwell was out the door before the junior agent could protest.

Nervous that his Hulk-out yesterday might expose him, David Banner (these days going by the name of 'David Becker') decided to hitchhike out of town before his relentless pain-in-the-backside, Jack McGee, could trace him to Los Angeles. Extending his thumb for a lift, he counted as far as thirty-six vehicles ignoring him, until an old truck that was built before RCA built color television sets approached him.

Inside a friendly old man came to a stuttering, lurching stop in his rickety truck, and cheerfully offered a ride. Following the old adage that beggars couldn't be choosers, David took a chance on the ancient Chevy truck.

"Where ya headin', son?" asked the old man, who was probably just a year or two younger than the truck he drove.

"Oh, uh," David replied, adjusting his bottom to avoid a partically painful spring pointing upwards out of the passenger seat, "Out of State, actually. Nevada."

The old man giggled and sputtered into a coughing spell. When he caught his breath, he chuckled, "I hope y'all don't expect me an' Old Bruce to drive ya all the way there?! Heeheeheehee!"

"No, that's fine. As far towards-"

"Oh-oh-oh-oh! There he goes again, gol-darnit!"

David watched as the front of the truck caught fire before it traveled two miles up the road. Smoke emanated from the engine, and the old man came to an awkward, jolting stop, the engine dying on the spot. David looked at the old guy nervously, who was just as happy and giggly as before.

"Y'all can either wait here with me 'til the dang engine cools off and see if Ol' Bruce will starts again, or y'all can start walkin' t'wards Nervada yerself? Heeheehee!"

David got out, and started walking.

Ralph and his beautiful fiancé Pamela Davidson were trying to have a relaxing lunch, but a commotion in front of restaurant drew their attention from their Caesar salads. They peered towards the windows of the restaurant, Ralph rolling his eyes and throwing down his napkin onto the table.

"That's Bill out there with someone! It figures we couldn't eat in peace! I'll be right back."

Ralph didn't even make it outside as the argument outside made its way inside the restaurant, where Ralph found a man in a heated argument with Bill. Jack McGee claimed Freedom of the Press, while Bill argued interference with official FBI business.

"Bill, maybe you should just back-off? What's the big deal, anyway? he's not hurting anyone here."

"Thanks, mister, but I-" McGee began, only to be interrupted by Ralph.

"Sure, no problem. If you're here as a food critic, I'd definitely recommend the lobster-"

An insulted McGee snapped, "I'm not a food critic! I'm here on a real story! Jack McGee, National Register," he said, showing them his press card.

"Yea, sure- figments of deluded people's imaginations! What is it this time, McGee? Elvis and JFK living on Jupiter with Bigfoot?" Maxwell sneered, adding that the reporter should leave if he wanted to retain his dignity.

Bill grabbed a handful of McGee checkered jacket, which the National Register reporter didn't like, so he struggled out of the grip, even as Ralph stepped in to get control of Bill, and the maire'd came forward to ask that everyone leave. Unfortunately, in the scuffle McGee's cheap jacket was torn, making everyone freeze, even embarrassing Bill for a second or two.

"Oops," was all Bill said.

"'Oops'?" McGee repeated. "'Oops'?! Is that an official FBI Oops or just a regular civilian Oops?!"

"Hey, buddy, it's no skin off my nose! Sue your tailor for the shoddy work!"

"Hey! I got this for a bundle at Neiman Marcus!" Jack protested.

"HAHA! Would that be the branch of Neiman Marcus that makes Volkswagen seat upholstery?!" Maxwell joked.

"Bill, that'll be enough! You'll have to forgive my friend, - he gets a little on edge when he's on duty."

"_'A little'?!_" Jack frowned.

"Let me and my fiancé make it up to you? Can we buy you a drink, let things cool down, and let Bill get back to work?"

Offered a free drink, and seeing an ally against the brash FBI man, McGee took him up on his offer, hiding his amusement as Maxwell got flustered and seemingly out-voted.

David was still trying to leave town at the same time, strolling up a main street, his thumb outstretched as he backed up little by little, walked some more, and then tried to thumb a ride again.

Until the cops saw him.

Being on the run from the authorities (thanks to the Hulk) and having had dozens of aliases down through the years, the sight of a police car approaching always filled him with dread. David Banner was dead, and the world had to believe that he was dead, until he could find a way to control or prevent the Hulk from ever being released.

The police car slid up beside him, and David held his breath.

"Excuse me, mister?" asked the passenger side cop.

"Er...yes, sir?" David asked, his voice tight.

"I wouldn't suggest you hitchhike in this neighborhood. You're even walking towards a rough part of town, to boot."

"Oh. Okay."

"For his own safety, you shouldn't hitchhike, you know? Not safe for young girls, let alone men you're age- never know who'll pick you up. Grab a bus outta town, okay?

"Yes, officer. I'll do that. Thank you."

David breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the police car took off, leaving him standing there. Bad neighborhood up ahead, huh? Taking the cop's advice, David started walking west, instead of north, keeping his thumb down for now as he waited to see where his feet brought him.

When he found himself at a truck stop, it seemed as good a place as any to try and get a ride out of town.

As luck would have it, a big man with a Deep South accent that looked more like Santa Claus than a trucker offered to take David as far as Phoenix, to which the tired traveller readily agreed.

Pulling himself up into the mammoth loud 18-wheeler, the trucker, who identified himself as 'Bubba Tex' (and not Santa Claus), yanked on the blaring truck horn like a train conductor proclaiming "Alllll aboarrrd!", and pulled out of the truck stop with the expertise of a man that had lived on the road for decades.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate getting a ride with you, Bubba. It feels like I've been trying to get out of town all day without much luck!"

"I knows how ya feel, son!" Bubba answered in a deep voice that matched his girth. "Some places I ain't able ta get outta fast enough! Like that time in '79 when I was trin' like hell ta get outta Dodge- er, Philly, rather! Seems this big palooka with a real big jealous streak heard that I was-"

Bubba was stopped in mid-sentence as his CB Radio blared at him for his attention.

"'Scuse me, Davey. Gotta holla in my CB for a mite! Breaker, breaker, this is Bubba Tex! Over!'

"Buuba, you've been a bad boy. Haven't you? Over."

Bubba Tex and David looked at each other in confusion, but David thought he saw something else there- embarrassment? Guilt.

"What y'all talkin' about, Fitzy? Yer not makin' sense, son! Over!"

"Cut the crap, Bubba! It's me you're talking to! I've been dispatching outta this hole for 20 years and I know what to look for, and who's got what I'm looking for. You're making a run again? What's the matter? Bookies catching up on you again? Over."

"Fitzy, what the- I'm not- you can't be serious?! Over!"

"Bubba...do I have to spell it out for you on the air?! I know you're transporting heroin again! Now, I told you before if-"

"Heroin?!" David exclaimed, aghast, speaking over 'Fitzy'. "Bubba, that's a very serious-"

"-truck stop from here to Phoenix won't let you in-" Fitzy continued, oblivious that he was being ignored.

"Aw, shucks, David, that ain't what it seems at all!"

"Do you have drugs aboard this truck?" David demanded, holding up a hand to silence his transporter.

"-got a call from the cops in Bakersfield saying that you-"

"Bubba?!" David snapped.

"Awrightawrightawright! So what? Big deal! A guy's gotta make a livin', ain't he? A little scratch on the down low, un'erstand? I been doing it fer-"

David jumped out of the truck at that moment, since they had come to a stop at a red light, and didn't stop jogging in the opposite direction Bubba that was driving until he came to the nearest intersection. Catching his breath, David looked around the city that seemed to want to delay his exit, and decided how to leave town.

Ralph, Pam, and McGee were actually having a good time, sharing stories about annoying high school students, inept lawyers, and newspaper reporters that should have stuck to writing poetry instead of journalism. In fact, taking his mind off of his search for the Hulk and that FBI jerk was just what Jack needed, he thought to himself, and this Hinkley and Pam Davidson seemed like good people.

"So, my editor calls in Lockwood," McGee was relating, as Ralph wiped a tear away from his eyes from laughing so much, "tells him to get back to his sources and get some real proof that the senator was from another planet, so Lockwood says, 'Proof?! How can I get you proof? People from the planet Metatron are habitual liars!'"

Ralph and Pam burst out laughing again, enjoying the funny stories and jokes about McGee's fellow reporters of the National Register that solely reported UFO sighting and Bigfoot stories.

"Bunch of crazy guys back at the office!" McGee said, finishing his second glass of wine. "Now, my story is where it's at! I'm here on positive eyewitness sightings of the Hulk."

Chuckling, Ralph joked, "Maybe the Hulk came out of a UFO to fight Bigfoot?!"

McGee was not impressed, and he immediately lost his smile. Seeing Pam's discomfort at the sudden silence, Ralph lost his playful smile, and said more seriously,

"Uh, just a little...joke. Sorry."

"S'alright, s'alright," McGee sighed, forcing a very small smile. "I hear it all the time. I'm used to it. Unless you've seen him, you can't help but wonder if he's not a ploy to sell papers, but I can tell you right here and now, I've seen him many times. Even crashed in a small plane with him once!"

Ralph and Pam looked at each other, then back at McGee. "How did you get the Hulk inside a plane?!" the teacher wondered.

McGee grimaced, knowing that he was about to get the weirdo-looks in the next few seconds, but Hinkley asked for it.

"Because the Hulk, unlike all those crazy stories about Bigfoot being a wild animal, isn't what he seems. He's actually a man that...changes into him. Not sure why or how, but that's the God's honest truth."

To their credit, Ralph and Pam didn't tease McGee about his story, nor look at him like he was a lunatic.

After all, if McGee were to find out about how aliens from another planet bestowed upon high school teacher Ralph Hinkley a super suit that allowed him to fly, be bullet-proof, give him super strength, allow him to become invisible, and several other abilities...well, McGee would be in his right to call the nearest psychiatric hospital and have Ralph committed!

Bill and Agent Langford were discussing the pitching of the L. versus the Oakland A's when a big black shiny Cadillac showed up, and came to a stop several yards from the restaurant that Ralph and Pam were dining. A mountain of a man in a chauffeur's cap climbed out from the driver's seat, and peered this way and that, inspecting the neighborhood as he approached the rear passenger-side door.

"I think we're about to get lucky, Langford!" Bill smiled, watching the new arrival through binoculars, as did the fellow FBI agent. "Yes! That's him! That's our Grade-A Rusky Chump!" he laughed, as they saw their man exit the car, straighten his immaculate business suit like he was the King of the World, and enter the restaurant.

"Okay, Langford! Sit tight! I gotta make a call!"

"What? Now? I thought this was a standard stake-out to-"

"Superior officer to underling, Langford- it's need to know. Back in a minute."

Bill left the apartment, and hurried over to the staircase out of earshot of Langford, and pulled out his small communicator that was linked to the one Ralph kept on him.

Ralph's communicator bleeped once, then twice, garnering confused looks from Pam and McGee. To prevent McGee from getting too suspicious, Ralph excused himself, saying it was just a beeper.

Finding the small alcove of the restaurant where a telephone was, he picked it up, but spoke into his communicator.

"What now?!"

"You're up, kid! That big fat load of Russian you-know-what that just came in is a piece of work called Pavel Kosachov! I need you to use the suit to get invisible, and then hover over him to listen in on him and Fontaine, the guy he's meeting with. Got that, Ralphy-boy?"

Ralph rolled his eyes, his plans for a nice quiet lunch with Pam complicated not only by a Third Wheel, but now a Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Wheel if you included Bill, Kosachov, and Fontaine.

"So _that's_ why you recommended this restaurant to Pam and I! You were setting us up all this time to take part in a sting operation! Why couldn't you just be honest with me, Bill?"

"Would you have said 'yes'?"

"No, I wouldn't have!"  
"Bingo! That's why! Now go get 'em!"

Awkward stunted conversation between Pam and McGee continued at a snail's pace, without Ralph acting as a buffer. McGee knew he wasn't exactly a smooth-talking lady's man, and there were times he actually felt self-conscious around very attractive women, and Pamela Davidson was definitely one for the books! Gorgeous long black hair, full lips, big brown eyes, and a voice like music, she should have been picking and choosing to her heart's content amongst the rich and famous of Los Angeles, but somehow skinny ol' Ralph Hinkley had nabbed her! Some guys had all the luck!

"So...a lawyer, huh?"

"Yes, I am," Pam smiled politely.

"Wow. That's great. Yeah, I used to know a lawyer or two in my time."

"Really?"

"Oh, yea, oh, yea," McGee nodded, wishing he had a third Scotch and soda before him rather than a second empty glass. His features sank as he remembered his lawyer acquaintances and added, "Of course they didn't look like you! All my lawyer friends looked like Wilson Fisk!"

"Who?" Pam asked, innocently.

McGee shook his head lamely, and mumbled, "Eh...doesn't matter."

"O-okay," Pamela nodded, taking a sip of her wine, but using it as a means of looking for Ralph to get back to their table _now_.

Unfortunately for her, Ralph was in the men's room tearing off his suit jacket, pants and shirt and tie, grumbling about Bill's lousy timing. with nobody around, he found himself in costume, and took a calming breath to concentrate.

He faded out instantaneously, and picked up his clothes, hiding them in a cabinet beneath the sink. Opening the washroom door and seeing the coat was clear, Ralph crept towards his target, even though he was now invisible, and gently sat down on the curved half-moon-shaped seat, leaving Kosachov beside him, and the Russian's fellow diner on Kosachov's right.

David tried one more time to leave town, deciding on a nice safe bus ride, preferably out of the State. Getting directions to the bus terminal, and hoping a ticket wouldn't drain his money too much, he patiently waited in a line-up that seemed to take a half hour, thanks to a confused little granny that couldn't remember if her granddaughter lived in Seattle or .

Once it was his turn, he pulled out his wallet, and asked, "Hello. One-way ticket to Phoenix, please."

The old, balding man on the other side of the window straightened up his desk, which had been littlered with maps and schedules thanks to the confused old lady. David watched him clean up, and cautiously slide off his stool, and begin to turn his back on David.

"Hey! Hey, excuse me!" David snapped, rapping his knuckles on the glass to get the old man's attention. "Can I get a ticket to Phoenix?"

The old guy looked David up and down, and pocketed his thick glasses as he replied in a bored voice, "Next window, sonny. I'm off duty."

"But all I want is-"

"Don't care what you want, mister. The old lady kept me 3 minutes past quittin' time. Next window."

David gritted his teeth and tried to calm his jangled nerves. No sense turning into the Hulk just because of this! But if he thought the old man was a problem, the gum-chewing rude woman with too much make-up and a frizzy reddish-orange perm at the next available window was even worse!

"I'd like to get a one-way ticket to Phoenix, please."

She checked her list and shook her head. "Naw. Sorry. Phoenix is completely booked up today."

"Okay. Then how about Las Vegas?"

The lady made a face. "Las Vegas isn't in Arizona, silly!"

"I know that. Can I get a one-way ticket there?"  
"_To Vegas?!" _she laughed. "_One-way?! _HAHAHA! Planning on winning big to pay for a way to leave?!"

"Can you just check, _please?" _She checked. Also booked full. So were the buses to San Francisco, Sacramento, and Portland, Oregon. Exasperated, David gave up and asked, "Then, what _is_ available in the next hour or two?!"

The woman checked. "Salt Lake City. That's in Utah."

"Yes, I know. I'll take it! How much?"

She stared at him. "You actually _want_ to go to _Utah?"_

"Yes, I do!"

"My sister Angie hated it there!"

"I don't care! How much and when is it leaving?!" David snapped, fearing he was about to Hulk-out any second!

"Fourteen dollars even."

"FINE!"

"But it leaves in three hours."  
"Okayokay! Please...?"

Getting his ticket from the woman, David felt he needed to cool down, not to mention waste the next three hours, so he went to the washroom. Seeing the questionable cleanliness of the facilities, he decided just to wash his hands and throw some water on his face. Almost finished, he noticed a man enter, pause, and come towards him.

"Call out and you're dead, sucker!" the stranger hissed, jabbing David in the ribs with a pistol. "Gimme your money!"

Wide-eyed and with his heart suddenly racing, David looked up at the reflection above the sink and saw a man with a heavy five o'clock shadow on his sunburned face, messy hair, and an unsettling wild-eyed look of desperation in his eyes.

"Hey, look, I just spent my last bit of cash on a ticket to-"

"Stop lying an gimme your money! Now!" the thug sneered, jabbing David in the ribs painfully.

"All right, okay, just-"

But the thug had no patience, and pistol-whipped David in the back of the head, sending the wayward traveller to his knees. The next thing David knew, he was kneed in the side, slamming his head painfully against the porcelain side of the dirty sink. David yelped in pain, his head spinning and heart racing like a hammer, even as the robber frisked him and yanked out his wallet and bus ticket.

The criminal gave him a swift kick in the gut once more, warning him not to call the cops or follow him, as he backed out, watching the hunched- over David writhe on the stained floor.

The specks of blood from his head injury was the last thing David saw, as his conscience and intellect left him, and was replaced by the savage beast that his modern-era intellect kept buried. He heard the ripping and shredding of his shirt and jacket momentarily, then lost out to the raging power known as the Hulk stood up where David Banner had been.

The Hulk roared at the closing door of the washroom, flexing and unflexing his huge hands as instinct told him that an evil, puny human that had hurt him had just gone through that door. He stomped forward, and bashed the door down, ignoring the handle and concept of hinges.

The explosion of force caught the attention of several people, causing many of them to yelp or scream at the sudden appearance of a powerfully-built green-skinned, green-haired humanoid monster that towered over all of them. The Hulk roared out a challenge, the bellow echoing within the confines of the bus terminal, and then he saw him.

The thief.

The Hulk didn't know that the thug had harmed David Banner- his limited intellect only told him that the thief had hurt _him_...and for that he would pay. The thief stood paralyzed with shock, frozen by fear, but then mobilized by it as he realized that the Hulk was charging after _him!_

Chasing down the robber was easy enough, as his exit was blocked by panicking bus travellers running in every direction, even with some getting in the way and being pushed aside by the angry green giant.

The thug nearly made it to the exit, until the Hulk grabbed hold of the collar of his coat and threw him thirty feet across the terminal to land upside down and in a heap inside a magazine booth.

Angry and confused by bustling traffic and crowds of shocked, frightened people, the Hulk roared once more and ran off...straight through the glass wall, which he smashed to pieces to get outside. Nobody was foolish enough to follow him, but nobody was able to find the power to look away from the startling sight, either.

Pam sipped her wine, struggling to search for something new to talk about with the quiet reporter, eventually coming up with, "So...I suppose you...practically eat, sleep and think about this...'Hulk'?"  
McGee nodded lamely, his own conversational skills escaping him before the lovely brunette. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yepper. Had my share of bad dreams, thanks to him. You'd be surprised at what I've-"

The Hulk ran past the front windows of the restaurant!

"-dreamed. _THAT'S HIM!_ Did you see him?! Just now?!" McGee cried out standing up.

"See...what?" Pam asked innocently, turning around and seeing nothing inside the restaurant, or out the window. Just a parked car in front.

S'cuse me! Nice meeting you!" McGee called out, leaping out of his chair and dashing out the restaurant in the same direction he saw the Hulk run.

Kosachov, the man Maxwell wanted Ralph to spy on, sat close to the front of the restaurant, and turned his head to watch him run away, distracted by the strange running man.

He stopped in mid-sentence to watch the reporter run away- as did Ralph, who suddenly became visible beside him, while in costume! Panicking, Ralph concentrated and popped out of existence again, before Kosachov or Fontaine were able to notice him.

Langford was curious who Bill contacted, but Maxwell pulled rank and claimed a need-to-know basis again.

"Let's just say I got us some back-up to help us on this case, Langy. He still inside?"

Langford replied, "Yea. Guess he's going to have the special of the day, and not just drop by for a few words with Fontaine."

The two of them continued their surveillance of the restaurant, unaware that as they spoke, a huge green giant of a man ran by, soon followed by McGee who had dashed out of the same restaurant.

Kosachov and Fontaine continued their conversation and made some incriminating statements while they were at it, Ralph figured as he listened in.

"-All the AK-47's and assault weaponry that you could ask for, ," Fontaine was promising. "The shipment arrives tomorrow by the usual method, and I've got the transaction fee out of the bank and in my safe."

"Very good, Fontaine. I appreciate your efficiency," the big Russian said in his heavy accent, savouring the flavor of his filet mignon.

"Can I expect my usual-?"

"You vill be handsomely paid, Fontaine, upon receipt of the weapons."

"Of course."

The Russian stared at his associate, who seemed a little distracted. "Something of interest, Fontaine?" The Russian followed his stare, and found a smile cross his thick lips. "I see. Lovely raven-haired Americanski woman dining alone. Didn't that running man come from her direction?"

"Yes, sir, I think he did. Maybe she told him where to go!"

Kosachov chuckled and joined in, saying, "Perhaps lady is frigid and doesn't like Americanski man in bad suit!"

"Ha, ha, ha! Maybe so!" Fontaine chuckled. "But you gotta admit, she's a pretty hot chick, huh?"

"Eh...adequate," Kosachov shrugged. "In my country, if woman is too cold for good time, she is as ugly as old auntie from Minsk!"

"You're too picky, my friend! She's a hottie! She and I would make sweet, sweet music together!"

Annoyed that they were making lewd comments about Pam, Ralph's invisible hand reached forward and tipped over a wine glass, spilling Kosachov's drink into his lap. The surprised Russian yelped and nearly jumped out of his seat, startling Fontaine, too. Ralph stood up, and listened in with a measure of satisfaction when the confused Kosachov wondered how that happened, and how much it was going to cost him to replace the expensive suit.

McGee ran down the street in the direction he saw the Hulk speed down, wheezing all the way, despite having quit smoking a few years back. There had been a flurry of activity to lead him this way, but then the Hulk had turned down an empty street, and McGee's gut instinct told him to make another turn, this one down a short one-way alley. He stopped to catch his breath, annoyed that he'd lost him, and there weren't any people here or on the street that were running away or panicking.

David felt his heart hammering in his chest as a red fog faded from his vision. A part of him knew what had happened, even though his memory was just as heavy with confusion, but he still managed to force himself to remain calm, and allow the change to bring him back.

He released a final sigh, and rubbed his face relieved that his features had been restored once more, and the Hulk was gone. He looked about and wondered where he was. He was sitting on the ground between two parked cars, and judging by the muffled sound of traffic, he was in an alleyway.

Banner gradually regained his senses, and began to rise, until he saw a figure nearby, looking in the other direction. He hunched down enough so that he was barely peering over the edge of the passenger side window through the glass of the car door window to remain hidden and watch the figure. As the man began to turn around, a sudden burst of recognition of that distinct profile forced David to duck down all the way to the ground.

It was McGee! And he was frighteningly close to him- barely fifteen feet! He lay close to the ground to watch McGee's feet from beneath the car, and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw him leave down the only exit. He sat back down against the wall between the car and patiently waited for enough time to elapse so that the reporter would be long gone.

David slowly rose and stood up between the cars, cautiously looking around them and down the alley, relieved that McGee was, indeed, gone. He looked around his surroundings and noticed that he was near the rear drop-off doors of the local Goodwill. He looked down at himself, and grimaced as he knew what he had to do.

With only his pants on (minus his stolen wallet and bus ticket), David very reluctantly opened up a bag of donated clothing from the Goodwill bin, finding a rumpled check shirt and even running shoes, and quickly donned his new clothing. He hated stealing such items, and even worse, this time without leaving even a few bucks behind, but this what his life had come to, once he changed back from the Hulk.

He returned to the street, penniless, without I.D., and no way to leave town. There was only one thing he could do...

...go back to work.

As McGee called his editor at the National Register in Chicago to check in and report, asking for more time in L.A. since he'd just come from a Hulk sighting, Kosachov and Fontaine were leaving the restaurant, allowing Ralph to report to Bill. Still invisible, he went to the back of the restaurant to recover his clothing the hiding spot in the washroom , but watched helplessly as it was found by the a member of the kitchen staff, who gathered it up and put it into a storage locker.

Once the staffer was out of sight, Ralph busted open the locker with ease, and collected his clothes. Suddenly there were too many kitchen staff milling about, and Ralph had to quickly carry his clothing back to his table. Anybody watching would have been startled to see a pile of clothing floating across the room, but Ralph was fast enough to make it back to Pam just in time to dump it in her lap.

Pam yelped from surprise, so Ralph hushed her with, "Sshhh! Pam!"

She looked about, but couldn't see him. "Ralph?"

"I'm right here."

Her face sunk and she sighed, "Oh, nooo."

"It's okay. I'm invisible on purpose," he whispered to her. "That call was Bill asking me to spy on a couple guys over there. Unfortunately, my clothes were found by somebody that works here, and I can't very well get dressed in them and have him see me in my own clothes."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"We might as well get out of here. I have to report to Bill. I'll meet you in my car, and I'll get dressed inside it."

Pam nodded, frowning. "Ralph, sometimes Bill makes me so..."

"Tell me about it! Oh, and just take the money out of my wallet in my pants."

Pam rummaged through his pants beneath the edge of the table and removed enough cash to pay for their meal (plus Jack McGee's two glasses of wine), gathered up the clothes in a big lump and got up from her table.

Seeing Pam leave with the clothes and then the damaged locker, the manager walked back into the kitchen and asked, "Hey, Jessie! How much liquor did that brunette chick in the purple outfit drink?!"

David gave up leaving town for now, unsure if he'd even be able to try again tomorrow with a dollar in his pocket. Having lost his money and bus ticket, he had no choice but to cross half the city back to the gas station that he had been working at for a month. With his feet aching inside running shoes that were a size too small for him, and without even socks to buffer the pain, he entered the garage with a puppy-dog expression on his face, the opposite of what was on his boss's face.

Reggie, who had given him a job at his station, despite very little similar experience, broke out into a big smile as he saw David shuffle in.

"You look terrible, David! I told you this town would eat you up! Unless you're an actor or producer, this town is just a shark in disguise! What happened?"

"Robbed, unfortunately. Some guy took my money and my wallet."

"Ooooh, man, I'm so sorry! Did you call the police?"

David shook his head. "No point. I, uh, never saw him. Just his fists on the back of my head."

"That's terrible! Glad you're back, though! I'll help you out."

"Oh! No, Reggie, that's very kind of you, but I just came back for-"

"What're trying to do? Be a martyr, or something? Look, you said your money AND your wallet is gone?" David nodded. "No I.D. now, then?" Another nod. "Then that's it. You can crash at my place, and tomorrow I'll get my friend to get a replacement social insurance card, drivers licence- whatever you need."

"Reggie-" David began to protest, until he saw his co-worker/friend's face drop and become stern and serious.

"No arguments, mister! I'm still your boss, and what I say goes! Got it?!"

"Got it," David agreed, sheepishly, but secretly incredibly relieved.

"Good. And since you're here...get back to work! I don't pay you to mope and feel story for yourself!" he laughed, his good humor returning.

David nodded, and went to the office to throw on his dirty garage work shirt. His day had started out so differently, but it was good to know that there were good, compassionate people out there like Reggie to look after unlucky schmucks like him!

Bill arrived at Ralph's house later in the day, simply walking right in as if he owned the place. Ralph and Pam had just sat down for dinner, managing only a few bites before the unexpected visitor had dropped by unannounced.

"Geez, Bill, why do you always time these covert meetings at the same time as we sit down to eat?!" Ralph lamented.

"_I'm_ not timing them at the same time as you- _you're_ timing dinner at the same time as _my_ meetings! 'kay? So...what're you having?" Bill asked, scanning the dining room table. "Smells great!"

"Would you care to join us, Bill?" Pam asked in that I'm-only-being-polite tone, secretly hoping that Bill wouldn't spoil two meals in one day.

"Great! Thanks!" Bill grinned ear to ear, flopping down into a chair, and laying his files on top of the bread and butter. "Ooops. Anyway, so about Kosachov and Fontaine..."  
"Who?" Ralph asked, pushing the pot of stew towards Bill, and getting up to grab utensils in the kitchen.

"Kosachov and Fontaine," Pam repeated with a groan.

Bill looked at her, then at the stew, his mouth watering. "Yeah, the guys I was spying on and then had you-"

"-drafted into spying on," Pam finished.

"Councillor, please! 'Drafted' is hardly what I'd call it! Ralphy-boy and the suit is part of the Team, so I _enlisted his aid_, as was my prerogative as leader of the Team."

"Go, Team, go!" Pam smiled, sarcastically punching the air.

Bill was nonplused by Pam's antics, and as Ralph returned with utensils and an empty glass, the FBI agent was able to brief both of his friends/teammates on Kosachov and Fontaine and their mission.

"Pavel Kosachov gets weapons shipments but his buddies at the KGB to crime bosses here in the ol' U.S. of A. via Fontaine, but I'm not sure how, even after Ralph listened in on them. Ralph, are you sure they didn't mentioned other names while you were there?"

Ralph shook his head. "Nope. Not really."

"'Not really'? What's 'not really'?"

"Well, they did happen to mention Pam."

"The Councillor?" Bill asked, casting a worried look at the pretty woman across from him.

"Mm-hm. Although I took exception to their comments and...let's just say that won't be the only one getting their suit fixed. Spilled his wine on Kosachov."

"Ralph!" Bill groaned, aghast. "You could have blown your cover!"

"I don't care! They were eyeing Pam, and I wanted to teach him a lesson!"

"Aw, geez. Okayokayokay. Anyways, a wise guy in the mob squealed, but only got as far as fingering Kosachov and Fontaine before someone scratched him like a lottery ticket and dumped his body in the bay. And after lying in the Bay for a day, you can imagine what the body looked like by then!"

Ralph and Pam looked down at their stew and made a face that mirrored each other, while Bill casually dug into his food and read from the report, dipping the corner of the file in his gravy.

"Aww, geezzz! You guys need to buy a bigger table so that doesn't happen to guests like me!"

Next day, David thanked Reggie for helping him, but he still wanted to leave. Now that he'd seen McGee in person in Los Angeles, he wanted nothing more than to get out of town and let McGee deal with chis cold leads. Unfortunately, his money situation was terrible, and Reggie asked

him to stay for just one more week.

"At least let me interview a couple replacements for you, before you leave me high and dry? How 'bout it, David?" With his back up against the wall, David reluctantly agreed. "Thank you, David, thank you!" his boss smiled, shaking his hand in between his own. "You're good people."

Banner nodded, thinking, 'Yes, good people...that turn into a very bad monster!'

Ralph and Bill were driving in a part of L.A. that Ralph rarely frequented, and asked where they were going.

"Approaching Fontaine's job, now. It might be as front, making like a good ol' boy American with a job, or it could be the actual location of the weapons exchanges. We're gonna find out, kid! You got the magic jammies on underneath your street clothes?"

"As usual," Ralph replied glumly. "Even though they seem to be insulated with something that prevents me from sweating buckets in them in this hot California sun, they're still bulky enough to make me feel like I'm wearing _two_ business suits!"

Jack McGee was also criss-crossing Los Angeles in search of random sightings or Hulk activity, when he noticed that he'd driven his car into the ground, and was nearly out of gas. Seeing a familiar big-name gas station sign up ahead, he pulled into the station, and waited patiently beside the full-service pump.

Inside the garage bay where he was changing the oil on a Ford Pinto, David noticed a car waiting by the pumps, and quickly wiped his hands with a greasy cloth, approaching the car that dinged the bell. A shape within the car in the driver's seat made him halt in his tracks, and swing around the edge of the inner wall.

It was McGee! _Again!_ How had he tracked him down here?! He watched the reporter fidget in the car, then began to realize something- McGee was waiting for gas! If he'd tracked the presumed-dead scientist to this gas station, he would have jumped out of the car, calling out his name! Seeing an opportunity to escape the relentless reporter, David spun on his heel, and hurried into the back of the gas station. Unfortunately the single door in the back led to the washroom and not outside- he was trapped!

McGee honked his horn to get attention and some service, but the gas attendant remained invisible or perhaps non-existent. He honked again, and caught the attention of Bill and Ralph, who were driving by at that very moment.

On instinct, and thinking the honking was for him, Bill did a U-turn and quickly pulled up, coming to such an abrupt stop that Ralph fell forward so quickly he nearly bumped his head on the front windshield.

"Whoaaa! Nice one, Bill! Next time, I'll try to fly out the front windshield!"

Bill ignored his friend's rant, and got out of his car, recognizing the man who had garnered his attention, even through his dark sunglasses.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't Cluck Kent, ace reporter for the _National Cash Register_! How's life looking for little green guys?"

"Nice to see you again, Hinkley. Maxwell...eh. Not so much."

"Same to you, buddy-boy!" Bill sneered. "What're you doing in these parts? On the trail of a hot story about gas stations doing double duty as UFO hideouts?!"

McGee stood his ground, unimpressed with Maxwell's humor. "If gas stations are anything other than what they appear to be, , then we can discuss how frequently they're used as secret FBI and CIA drop-houses and secret underground surveillance stations! Most of my readers already acknowledge all kinds of governmental cover-ups. And I know for a fact that you or the CIA have talking cars that can fly!"

"_Flying cars_?!" Bill laughed outright. "Oh, buddy-boy, you've been sniffing too much newspaper ink! What the _hell_ are you talking about?!"

David watched from a distance inside the station through a crack in the washroom door, as the youngest member of the small group of visitors seemed to try to act as a mediator between his partner and McGee. He could only hope that they would all leave, because other than the washroom and Reggie's cramped office, there was nowhere to hide inside the little gas station.

"Okay, Maxwell, okay, whatever! I don't know why you guys are here, anyway, and I don't care! I was just trying to get the attendant out here to fill my car up...but there doesn't seem to be anyone here."

Bill and Ralph looked at each other, and Bill gave him a subtle nod, when McGee wasn't looking. Now that he'd noticed where he was, Bill realized that this was Fontaine's place of business! He'd nearly driven by it, and now this McGee clown was interfering with official FBI business..._again!_

Ralph wandered off, and Maxwell told McGee, "Yea, well, you get alot of places like this in California, ya know? Some attendants just go wacko, 'cause of the hot California sun, and gasoline fumes, and such!"

McGee stared at Maxwell, and shook his head, saying, "It must be catching. I know of at least one FBI G-Man that's also lost his marbles!"

"All right, McGee, all right! Why don't you just scat like a good paperboy and get your gas somewheres else, huh? This dump is definitely out to lunch!"

"Yeah," McGee frowned, glumly, walking around his car to get inside it. "Lot of that going on!"

Maxwell bit his tongue, in the interest of getting the snooping reporter out of his hair so they could confront Fontaine. As the reporter sped off spinning his tires so fast on the spot that it kicked up enough dust and gravel to get Bill's clean suit dirty), Maxwell cursed under his breath, waving the dust in the air from his face.

"Boy, that guy really burns my brain! Bet he doesn't have a single friend in the world with an attitude like that!"

He turned and followed Ralph inside the station, where Ralph seemed to be getting a hologram of someone hiding inside. Without saying a word,

Ralph revealed that there was a man hiding inside the washroom of the gas station. Bill pulled his gun, and crept towards the closed door. Counting down with his fingers, Bill suddenly kicked in the door, finding a startled man in a greasy gas station attendant shirt starring back at them.

"All right, buddy, freeze! FBI!"

David was ready to panic, and fought down the urge to allow himself to Hulk-out and escape! This was even worse than he expected! He's always been worried that McGee would find him, but if the FBI had tracked him down then his cover, his life was over!

Bill flashed his FBI I.D. and demanded to know who David was. "I-m- I'm just a guy working here. I haven't done anything wrong."

"Name, mister, not what you like to do on the clock!" Bill snapped, still keeping David covered with his gun.

"David Becker. What's this all about?" he asked, ready to face the music.

"That's for me to know, and you to make me smarter! Where're the weapons, when and where is the drop off, and most of all, where's your boss?"

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about! This is just a gas station! I pump gas and fix cars! Nothing more!"

"You're trying to tell me that you don't know nothing about his operation?" Bill demanded.

"Anything," Ralph corrected his friend, who looked at him, slightly confused. The teacher in Ralph sometimes came forward where bad grammar was concerned. "He doesn't know 'anything', not 'nothing'. You're implying a double-negative, Bill, which is-"

"Ralph! Do you mind?"

"Reggie is a good guy. He's not involved in anything criminal," David insisted.

"Ooooh, 'Reggie', is it? Lemme tell you something about Reginald Fontaine- he's a bad, bad man! And if he gave you a job, it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart! He was gonna use you to do his dirty work- and I ain't talking about changing the oil on a Buick!"

"I don't believe you."

"Neither did the four other crumbs that Fontaine offed personally. Once their usefulness was at an end, of course. Do the names 'Trenchard', 'Hartley', 'Shore' or 'Linden' mean anything to you?"

David thought about it, and replied, "I've heard Shore and Linden mentioned on the radio this past week."

"Right. Benjamin 'Buster' Shore and Johnny Linden are just two guys that met their maker thanks to Fontaine, by way of his boss man."

David's face suddenly lost its defiance in favor of cold reality. "Reggie told me that I replaced someone named 'Buster'. He said he'd quit and returned to Chicago."

"Maybe, maybe. _In a box!" _Bill added, bluntly.

"Listen, ," Ralph added, trying to sound a little more compassionate and less blunt than Bill, "we're on official FBI business, and we're not in the habit of harassing the average upstanding citizen. If Agent Maxwell says that Fontaine has underworld or criminal connections, you can bet that its true. So anything you can tell us about him would be appreciated."

"Okay, I'll help, but I really don't know what to say. Sometimes he leaves and gives me the day off, and others I work here by myself. I suppose he could be meeting someone."  
Bill flashed a picture of Kosachov. "This guy?"  
David shook his head. "I wouldn't know. The meetings take place

somewhere else- that man has never came here that I know of."  
"What about a location for their meetings? Do you know where they could be taking place?" Ralph asked.

David shook his head. "Sorry, I just don't know. Sometimes he's gone for an hour, sometimes three."  
"Then, how about this; can we poke around Fontaine's files inside the office?" Bill asked.  
"Wouldn't you need a search warrant for that? To make it legal?"

"He's right, Bill."

"'He's right, Bill!'" Maxwell repeated in a condescending, whiney voice. "Boy, you civilians really take the cake! I'm so close to nailing him and yet so far!"

"From the cake?" Ralph joked. Seeing that Bill was in a foul mood, Ralph added, "Okay, Okay. But, Bill, if the whole idea is to pin the crimes on Fontaine and Kosachov, it's gotta be legal to hold up in court, right?"

"This stinks, Ralph!" Bill groaned. "So close and yet so far! You've been hanging out with the Councillor too much!"

"Yea- since she's my fiancé!" Ralph replied, trying to sound obvious.

"Look, guys, it'll be easier if I just go in and look around for you. Come back tonight around 7, and I'll let you know if I found anything."

"Why don't we just drop by your home?" Ralph asked.

David blushed slightly, and replied, "I'm staying at Reggie's temporarily, at the moment. I'm out of money."

"All right, seven it is," Maxwell groaned, and led the way back to his car.

Convinced to help the FBI, David followed them to the car, even though all he wanted was just to leave town as soon as possible and avoid the law at all costs. The first chance he got, he was gone, paycheck or no paycheck.

From a distance through binoculars, Kosachov's driver, Zubov, watched as Maxwell and Ralph left Fontaine's gas station, shaking hands with David. He picked up the car phone and made a report. He set the phone down and continued to watch David like a hawk as Fontaine's attendant walked back into the station.

Minutes later, Reggie showed up and David quickly left the cramped office in time to not been caught snooping. He hadn't found anything incriminating, but when Reggie showed up looking nervous and somewhat out of character, it seemed to add to Maxwell's suspicions about him, as far as David was concerned.

"So...things okay here, David?"

David shrugged. "Pretty well. Yes."

"Any customers in the past...half hour?"

"A few. Nothing special. I'm still working on the car up on the winch, but I'm afraid I'm not that technically savvy to fix it. Will you be interviewing a replacement for me soon that could help you-"

"David, I just want to know one thing; why're you lying?"

Immediately, David felt defensive and wondered if his boss had seen the FBI men leave the gas station. Fontaine looked over his shoulder, and watched as Zubov entered, cracking his knuckles, looking for a fight.

Reggie turned around and saw the concern on David's face. "I never wanted you to get mixed up in this, David, but you've spoken to the wrong kind of people. Now, I'm gonna ask you again, and if you know what's god for you, you'll answer truthfully. Who were you speaking to about a half hour ago?"

David tried to bluff, replying, "There were two gentlemen earlier, but they were just...lost. They needed directions, so I-"

With lightning-fast reflexes, Zubov knocked out David with one punch. Reggie barely had time to grab the limp employee, and let him flop to0 the cold floor with a shred of dignity.

"Why'd you have to do that, you big meathead?!" Fontaine protested, but Zubov ignored him and picked up David's unconscious form with the ease of a child lifting a doll. The big Russian spun on his heel and dumped David's unconscious body into the trunk of his car as if he had something similar every day.

Bill was musing that he still wasn't sure that Becker would help them out, when Ralph pulled out a greasy rag from his jacket pocket.

"Ralph! No! Don't do that! That's disgusting! Use a Kleenex, willya?!

Ralph smiled and replied as he pulled down his wind shade, "Relax, Bill, it's not what you think. I grabbed this rag from the service station when Becker wasn't looking, so that I could use it to hologram in on his actions."

"Oooh! Right! Good thinking, kid! Whadaya see?"

"Um...nothing. Wait! Wait, there's some activity going on...some big brute's there...looks European or..."

"Russian?" Bill prodded.

Ralph shrugged. "Could be. Oh! He just dumped David Becker into the trunk of a car!"

"What?! Is he dead?"

Ralph heard Fontaine call Zubov a 'meathead', and was worried why Becker had to be hurt. "No. He's alive, but unconscious. Fontaine's there now, too."

"Great! Lemme pull over and I'll doubleback to Fontaine while you crack the hatch on that car and get Becker out!"

Bill swung to the side quickly, and Ralph leaped out, running towards some high bushes adorning an office building, and tore off his suit jacket and pants, shoving them under the bushes, hoping he'd be able to retrieve them.

With a running start, and a leap into the air, Ralph took off into the air, gaining speed and altitude.

Then his mild feelings of vertigo kicked in.

"Whooaaa! Whoooooaaaaooofff!" he gasped and pirouetted in the sky, his arms and legs thrashing as the world shrunk beneath him, and the horizon twisted hard to the right.

Superman, Ralph Hinkley was not.

The aliens that had given him the super suit must have seen something in him that would make him an effective crime fighter and a compassionate human being, but there were times Ralph wondered if the suit was even meant to be used for flying, or if he'd actually been given a defective suit that made flying...uh...awkward, to say the least.

He focused on what he needed to do, and his flight path straightened out somewhat, his arms and legs outstretched in a way he'd seen in cartoons and comic books as a kid, and suddenly he was flying in a straight line.

In the wrong direction, unfortunately.

Knowing this, he banked to the right towards the highways that the car was heading for, and once again he found himself flailing in mid-air, trying his best to stay on course, even though his fear of crashing head-first into the hard ground seemed to send him downwards to do just that.

Ralph twisted his body hard to the left and he was able to avoid the spire of a church cross, but then send him on a collision course with a set of transmission tower wires.

"OOHHH! OOOHHH, NNOOOO! WHOOOOOAA!" he cried out, fearing a heavy dose of electricity was in his future.

Somehow, he flung himself back on course, away from the lines, and just like that he was flying directly above the car he needed to stop.

Then an inadvertent glance to the right, sent him flying off course once more.

David woke up with his senses confused and his jaw aching, until he realized he was trapped inside a trunk of a speeding car. He struggled to push the hood open, but it wouldn't budge.

"HEY! Let me out! Stop!" he shouted, but the noise of the speeding car was probably lost to the wind, nor would anybody be able to hear him at this speed.

He pounded on the trunk hood again and again, until his hand hit it awkwardly, cutting both hands. David yelped out in pain, and felt his heart go into overdrive. A second later, his eyes began to glow a whitish-green.

Distracted by the noise, Zubov pulled over, arming himself with a pistol to shut up his reluctant passenger, who was now groaning and acting like an animal. Climbing out of the car, Zubov held the gun inside his chauffeur's jacket, so the few people that drove by wouldn't see it. As soon as he rounded the corner of the big car, an explosion of force boomed close to him as the trunk hood went flying, startling him in his tracks.

The Hulk rose up from a kneeling position, blinking in the sudden sunlight. As soon as he saw Zubov, he roared and then growled like a vicious animal, staring at the big man as he climbed out of the trunk of the car. Zubov couldn't believe his eyes, or understand what just happened, but he knew he was in trouble as the green monster spotted him, murderous rage in its glowing eyes beneath its pronounced forehead brows.

Zubov instinctively aimed the pistol at the Hulk, but the big green goliath's massive hand whipped out in a green blur, clutched the gun, and yanked it out of the driver's hand, crushing it with a shocking groan of crushed metal. Zubov tried a different attack, swinging his own meaty fist towards the Hulk's face, but was no match and the creature caught the raised fist and tossed him like a doll, throwing him over twenty feet away.

From above, Ralph saw a commotion, and tried to land on his feet, but he was going too fast. His momentum brought him to the ground, but continued to force him forward, sending him at a fast run into a collision with the Hulk, forcing the big green creature to stagger into the black car from the brute force of Ralph's landing. Like a pool ball hitting another, Ralph stopped abruptly like hitting a wall, as the Hulk fell back.

The sheer power of the Hulk's bulky, muscular mass crushed the driver's door inwards, confusing the behemoth for a few moments. Seeing the new arrival in the red costume and black cape as a new enemy, the Hulk growled at him, his powerful fists clenching and unclenching.

Ralph couldn't believe what he was seeing- McGee's target, the Hulk, actually existed! And man, was he a big guy! At least seven feet tall, well over 500 pounds of solid muscle and as angry as he was green.

On the other hand, Ralph was barely five-foot nine and 150 pounds of schoolteacher!

Ralph felt completely outclassed since he wasn't not a fighter. Then he realized that the suit would protect him, and might even make him an equal to the green monster. The Hulk lunged for him, and Ralph caught him by the wrists. A titanic struggle between sheer brute strength and alien-enhanced power ensued, as Ralph tried to keep the Hulk from picking him up and crushing him like a bug, but it only made the Hulk angrier.

The jade giant thrust his arms outward, breaking the hold, then grabbed Ralph by the shoulders. Ralph swung his own arms outward between the Hulk's and broke the hold, surprising the Hulk. The giant wouldn't be challenged like that, so he grabbed two fistfuls of red suit when Ralph's cape was attached, and yanked the smaller's man's form off the ground. Panic set in as Ralph felt his feet and then the rest of his body leave the ground, and then experience flight through the air as he was thrown up and over the black car.

Next the super powerful green monster turned his attention to the startled driver, Zubov, who tried to use a knife, but it, too, was swatted away, just before the Hulk swung his mighty arm in an arc, sending the driver up and over the car against a railing.

Fearing that the Hulk was an indiscriminate menace, who would willingly hurt anyone, even a criminal like Zubov, Ralph felt he had a duty to keep the city safe, so he dove off the roof of the car, and drop-kicked the Hulk liked he'd seen Captain Kirk do to enemies on _'Star Trek'_, one foot connecting solidly against the monster's chest. Only by sheer centrifugal force was Ralph able to knock the Hulk backwards several feet, but the creature didn't fall to the ground.

After that he wasn't sure what to do next.

_Panic_ was as good an option as any!

Because there was virtually no limit as to how strong the Hulk could get. The angrier the beast got, the more powerful he'd become. And right now the Hulk was angry.

Very.

_Very._

Angry!

The Hulk and Ralph stalked each other in a circle, waiting for the first one to make a move or a mistake. When both realized that he would have to make the first move, the two opponents came together as the Hulk lunged forward and Ralph threw an awkward punch into the gut of the Hulk.

It was like hitting the steel hull of a battleship!

It didn't hurt Ralph, but he was shocked that the punch made as much difference as a hug!

The Hulk raised his super-muscular arms above his head, and with a mighty roar brought them down. Only by his supersuit-enhanced reflexes was it possible for Ralph to duck. The Hulk swung out wildly again and missed, giving Ralph an opportunity to use the Hulk's own momentum against him. Without even thinking, Ralph grabbed the swinging arm, and pulled forward, flipping the man-beast over his shoulder with a half-hearted judo toss- thank you Captain Kirk!

The Hulk rolled across the road, but got back to his feet quickly, roared a challenge, and lunged for Ralph again. Ralph's eyes bugged out in surprise and more than a little fear at the new attack, then he disappeared from sight.

The green giant stopped in mid-stomp and looked around, confused as to where the red and black-costumed little man went. Something like this had never happened to him before? He sneered with frustration, releasing a low, suspicious growl at the trick, as his glowing green eyes looked around with guarded intensity. His nose twitched, and his primal senses realized that he could still smell his smaller opponent.

Ralph wanted to take advantage of the Hulk's confusion, and tried more than once to knock out the man-beast with a well-placed karate chop to the neck, but even with the super powers of the suit, it only hurt the Hulk, making him jolt downward from the force, and growl out in pain. Ralph lined the Hulk up for another, stronger chop from behind, when the green goliath spun around, and shot out a big hand.

Ralph suddenly returned to normal, appearing visible to the Hulk...

...and with a very strong hand clutching his throat in an immoveable vice-like grip!

The Hulk actually seemed to smile through his sneer, as if he knew he was about to squash an annoying bug with one hand.

Bill couldn't believe his eyes as he drove full speed to the edge of the city, homing in on Ralph's communicator. He came to another sudden, tire-screeching halt, and shoved his door open to get out and whip off his sunglasses. That McGee-psycho might have actually been telling the truth about all his crazy Hulk stories, because now he could see a huge, powerfully-built...man?...super-man?...running down a side street and away from a damaged black car that was also dashing away, leaving bits and pieces of its damaged parts in its wake.

Bill looked to one side, drawn in by a moan and was just as shocked by what he saw. He found Ralph sitting on ground up against crumbled wall of building, his cape over his head, one hand delicately rubbing his aching head through his cape.

"Ralph! Oh, kid, what..._what happened here?!" _he asked, his eyes wide as the crumbled bricks that made an silhouetted indentation where Ralph was sitting.

"It was the Hulk, Bill," Ralph said softly, as Bill pulled his friend's cape off of his head.

Ralph actually had a bruise under one eye, which healed instantaneously right before Bill's awestruck expression. He gently pulled Ralph out from the wall and up to his feet.

"I chased the car...came in for a landing...and the Hulk was already there," Ralph answered, gradually getting his bearings back as the suit healed his injuries, and blocked any pain he was feeling. "He and I got into it...but..."

"Uuhhh...yeah. I get the picture," Maxwell grimaced, knowing that a human thrown the way Ralph was would have been broken in two from the terrible force. "Don't feel bad, kid. Not too many people can go toe to toe with you when it comes to the suit, but I suppose this Hulk monster is different."

"You can say that again!" Ralph said, shaking his head once. "It was amazing, Bill! The Hulk exists! Everything Jack McGee said was true about that thing! It's raw power, its violent tendencies, its invulnerability!"

"Invulnerability-shmalnerability!" Maxwell scoffed. "He's just a big green guy! A big, green weight-lifting wacko that belongs on a funny farm!"

"Bill! I-!"

"Listen, kid, when you've seen as much as I have you begin to smell these things for what they are! Yeah, yeah, the so-called 'Hulk' exists, but you can't tell me he's a monster, some freak of nature! He's just a looney that's painted himself green, and I'm gonna nail his butt to the wall for roughing you up like this! No more green guy shenanigans for him! He caught you with a lucky punch or something, that's all!"

"No, no, no, no, Bill, there's more to him or it than that! I'm starting to think he might be a super-powerful alien that was sent here by a different alien race!"

"Aw, c'mon, Ralph! Stop that!" Bill snapped, visibly getting nervous as he looked around, half expecting the Hulk to return.

"Well, why not? Maybe the _little _green guys that gave us the suit knew about the _big_ green guys out there! Maybe I was given the suit to protect Earth against an _army_ of Hulks!"

"Will-you-stop-ranting-like-that, Ralph?!" Bill groaned. "You're making my skin crawl at the thought of there being more than one of those idiots out there!"

"I should track him down."

"Whoa, there, no way. We have a more pressing appointment, back at Fontaine's service station. I've got him tied up back there."

Pam pulled up to the condominium with a gentle stop, and looked at her passenger with concern. She was about the same age as her, with auburn hair and enough freckles to make her seem younger than she was. Pam turned to her and asked,

"Angie, are you sure you don't want me to help you upstairs?"  
"Thanks, Pam, but I'll be okay now that I'm home," her co-worker replied, gingerly rising out of the white convertible Volkswagen Beetle. "No more liquid lunches for me! I should have been counting my drinks!"

Pam smiled sadly, telling her, "The way the clients from Spencer and Dillon behaved, I'm surprised we even got any work done. On the plus side, I think likes you!"

Angie gave Pam an Are-you-kidding-me?! look as she closed the Beetle's door, mumbling, "Anybody that likes his booze that much is nobody I'd _ever _bring home to Mom! Thanks for the lift."

"Anytime," Pam smiled, sympathetically, and pulled away, trying to get her bearings in a neighborhood she rarely visited.

With a quick doubleback, Bill brought himself and Ralph back to the station just in time. The crook had somehow untied his bonds to the chair that Bill had tied him into, and now he was about to make his own quick escape in his own car.

Bill shouted, "Freeze, Fontaine!"

Fontaine spun around, and was clocked by Ralph with one punch, sending Reggie Fontaine to the floor.

"Nice right cross, kid!"

"It's not me, it's the suit, Bill," Ralph admitted, now that he was wearing a spare shirt and pants that Bill kept in his trunk.

Bill picked Fontaine off the floor, and shoved him into a nearby chair. He rubbed his chin, looking between the two of them, when his eyes locked on Ralph.

"Hey! _I know you!_ Didn't I see you in your pajamas last night?"

"Okay, Reggie, here's how it's gonna go; you're gonna tell us what you and Comrade Kosachov like to do on your spare time down at the Kremlin, where you get your little weapons, how they get inside the U.S. of A., and while you're at it you can tell us all about your friend, David Becker, who just took a little ride in the trunk of a car?"

"David's long gone. He left town a couple days ago."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Bill sneered, sarcastically. "While you were finding a way out from my patented Maxwell Triple-Whammy Double-Knots, we were tracking down said car. The trunk was torn open by the...that is, the car suffered some damage, and the driver got away, but there was no sign of Becker. Wanna fill in the blanks, Comrade?"  
"Stop calling me that! I have rights! I'm an American citizen!"

"No, you're not! You don't even play one on TV! Ralph, I think we might have to use the ol' Fly-Up-The-Ol'-Flag-Pole scenario here! That kind of interrogation technique usually...Ralph!"

Bill and Fontaine watched as Ralph slowly walked away from them towards the calendar on the wall. Ralph felt another hologram come on, and stared at the wall where a beautiful girl in a bikini on the calendar grinned back at him. He walked up to it and touched it with one hand, making Bill roll his eyes.

"C'monnn, Ralph, what're you doing? She's a cutey but you've got Pam, remember?"

"No, no, Bill! That's not it! I'm getting another hologram!"  
"Of what? The photo shoot in Bermuda where they took her picture?!" he asked, half-jokingly.

"I can see the Hulk again! He's still out there!"

"Oooh, boyyy," Bill groaned, fearing an up-close and personal encounter with the giant.

"There're people around him! He might lash out at them or worse!"

"Well, get going, kid! Up, up and away, as they say!"

"No way! Too many people around, Bill! We're still trying to keep a low-key presence! Just cuff Fontaine and bring him with us in your car! I'll direct you!"

Jack McGee had been standing line at McDonald's for what seemed like a half-hour, before he was finally served, but now he found himself in the middle of an argument with a twerp half his age.

"I don't _want_ fries _or_ a Shamrock shake! All I want is a flipping burger with no pickles and a double-double coffee!"

"My manager told me I have to ask every customer if they want a Shamrock shake or fries with their order, sir!" the 18-year old frowned, his voice cracking from the stress, and eyes close to tears.

"Fine! Whatever! Now we understand each other! Just fill my order, willya?"

"Okay. Would you like an apple pie with that?"

"Did I _ask_ for an apple pie?!" McGee snapped.

"They go good with coffee!" the cashier offered.

"How would you know?! You're not even old enough to drink diet soda!"

While McGee struggled to get his simple order filled, commotion behind his back was going unnoticed to almost everyone. People were running about, some in fear, others in shock as they watched the Hulk appear outside. Through sound-proofed glass he roared at them, flexing his arms, and showing his teeth.

A lone man dressed as a garbage man tried to hit the Hulk with a garbage can, but the Hulk stopped the assault, and crushed the circular hunk of metal like it was made of paper. As McGee fumed and tried to hold his temper in check, since he was so hungry, he was unaware that behind him outside people parted like the Red Sea as the Hulk approached the restaurant. The big green giant swung around sensing someone behind him, but had to look down all the way as a lone brave little boy approached him, and smiled up at him.

As the Hulk was causing confusion outside behind his very back, McGee turned to a woman in the other line and asked, "Can you believe this place? Can't get a simple burger and coffee order straight! What's the matter with kids today?! Isn't this supposed to be the place that I can 'have it my way'?"

The woman frowned and replied, "That's Burger King."

McGee frowned back at the lack of sympathy, and snatched the bag from the cashier, leaving by the door to right, just as Hulk entered with the little black boy from the left door. Grinning widely and holding the Hulk's hand, the boy proclaimed,

"This is my Dad! And I want ten Happy Meals for free!"

The Hulk was confused but not afraid, and could smell food cooking in the kitchen. He looked down at panicking employees in the back, and was just as confused when they handed over trays of food to the little boy, before running to the back in fear.

The restaurant had nearly been cleared of people as the boy ate a burger, and gave one to the Hulk. The green giant sniffed it and bit into it, enjoying the taste. He shoved the entire Big Mac in his mouth making the little kid giggle at the sight of the Hulk's big, puffing cheeks, and was about to eat a second burger when he noticed a door open up on the far side of the restaurant.

McGee returned with his head down, pulling out his partially-eaten burger as he grumbled, "Now, look, I said I didn't want any pic...kles!"

Jack stopped in mid-sentence as he came face to face once more with the Hulk, who recognized him and growled threateningly, as he slowly stood up. The Hulk took a couple steps forward, staring him down in a frightening, challenging way, but to his credit Jack McGee didn't run away.

"Th-th-that's o-okay, big boy! Just calm down! Ol' Jack isn't gonna hurt you!" McGee stuttered, his knees knocking beneath his pants legs. "You remember me, don't you?" The Hulk growled like a hungry pit bull. "Yeah, I think you do."

The Hulk turned around and left...through the huge front window at the front of the fast food restaurant. Against his better judgement, Jack followed him. A car came screeching up towards him out of nowhere, which was only half of the surprise, since it turned out to be Hinkley and Maxwell inside.

"You again?!" Bill groused, rolling his eyes.

"You're just in time! The Hulk was just here! He ran that way and turned at the Post Office! Let me ride with you, so I can-"

"No way, Press-Boy! This is an official FBI vehicle, not a yellow cab!"

"Yeah? Well, you know what you can do with your official FBI nonsense, Maxwell, and stick it where-"

They zoomed off, stranding McGee at McDonald's. He felt a tug at his sleeve and found the little black boy at his side, offering him some French fries. McGee glumly took them from the grinning child.

David wasn't sure where he was, even though his eyes were open and a part of him told himself that he should know. It was always that part of the transformation back to his human self that was always the most disorienting. His 20th century intellect that was David Bruce Banner would gradually return to him, replacing the primtive, anger-driven personality of the creature.

Clothes...lots of them! He was inside a department store of some kind, and judging by the lack of shoppers and sales people, it was a good bet that the Hulk had frightened them off as he entered the store. Not willing to ignore this stroke of good luck, David yanked off a shirt from a hanger to replace the one that the Hulk had burst through during the latest change.

The car trunk! He had found himself inside a trunk because...Reggie! Fontaine knew some big bruiser who had hit him and presumably stuffed him into the trunk of his car when the metamorphosis had occurred. Well, that did it! FBI or no, he was out of here right now! With those agents harassing him, and being knocked unconscious by one of Reggie's 'associates', Los Angeles had gotten way too dangerous for him.

Helping himself to some running shoes that were two sizes two tight for him, David dashed out of a side door of the store, buttoning up his shirt as he wandered blindly out into traffic. A screech of brakes, a gasp escape from his lips, and a flash of white, and Banner felt a painful impact against his left leg as he fell to the pavement.

"Ooooh, I'm sooo sorry! Let me help you- are you okay?" a woman asked, leaping out of her car.

"I'm fine- fine!" David grunted through gnashing teeth, feeling his heart pound a mile a minute- the prelude to a transformation into the Hulk! He had to stop it before he changed and hurt anyone!

"I'll be the judge of that!" the woman told him, feeling his leg for fractures. "Thank God! It doesn't feel broken."

"It's not," David grunted, trying to stand. "I just twisted awkwardly."

"I saw. I'm sorry, I had so little time to stop- you were lucky you saw me and tried to twist away."

"Yeah, my lucky day," David gasped, holding his leg, and successfully holding back the metamorphosis. "Look, I'm fine, I'll be all right. Thank you for caring, but I'll-"

"It's more than that. What kind of person would I be if I was callous enough to be part of a hit and run? Here- let me give you a lift somewhere. At least let me do that for you?"

With a throbbing ache in his leg that travelled up and down his thigh into his hip, David relented, and allowed the woman to settle him into the passenger side of her little car. She climbed into the driver's seat, and held out her hand, her face filled with concern, offering,

"Pam."

"David. David Becker," he answered, giving her proffered hand a small shake, before he suggested a generic address to her to let him off. He'd get close to the edge of town, and hitch a ride to somewhere, with anyone.

Zubov wasn't sure how he was going to explain to Kosachov what happened. Losing his hostage was one thing, but that huge green man-monster was another story! Still, his car's trunk was ripped off, and nobody human could have done that! Why that big green monster would want to help Becker, Zubov didn't know.

A few blocks further down the road, he couldn't believe his luck- he'd found David Becker on the other side of the street, riding with a woman in a white car! Without anyone else nearby, Zubov thanked his lucky stars and came to a quick stop, did an engine-roaring three-point turn, and gunned his broken car at top speed to catch up with the Volkswagen.

David and Pam were caught off guard as the big car suddenly appeared beside them, and then cut them off, forcing Pam to come to a quick stop, mounting the sidewalk. Before they could do anything, Zubov ordered them at gunpoint to freeze, as he climbed into the backseat of Pam's car. David looked about, as if he was trying to decide if he could make a run for it, or if there was a cop nearby that could help him.

"No thinking of escape, Amerikanski! I can bring you to boss with bullet in arm or in brain. You choose."

With an offer like that, David reluctantly remained in the passenger seat, while Pamela wondered what trouble this man called David had gotten himself into.

"Look, it's me you want!" David snapped. "This woman is an inn ocent bystander- let her go!"

Zubov cocked the pistol, and smiled sinisterly. "And let Amerikanski woman friend go to police and have Zubov followed and identified? No! She drive; you shut mouth. I give directions from back seat."

They sped off, the Russian's gun pointing at Pam's neck, barely a foot from her all the way. It worried David that he wasn't blindfolded to prevent him from knowing where he was being brought, which usually meant that someone didn't intend for him to leave alive. And to involve an innocent woman who was just trying to help him tore his heart out.

He came to a decision, and it wasn't one he took lightly...

...he would purposefully become the Hulk to save both of them, and let his faith in the creature's instincts find a way of saving both of them.

They arrived at their destination in a secluded area of the waterfront amongst a series of warehouses, and David led the way into a building to see Kosachov and Fontaine, only Fontaine was late. Two men were waiting for him in the high-ceiling warehouse, one better dressed and older than the other, who carried an air of authority about him.

Neither was happy to see him, or the woman who called herself 'Pam'.

Ralph tried to focus in on the Hulk with hologram as Bill drove the car in a search pattern, but the green monster's whereabouts remained a secret to him.

"Damn! I just can't seem to home in on that crazy green monster!

"Oh. Well...that's okay," Bill answered lamely.

Ralph looked at him, and recognized the reluctant body language of his friend and partner.

"What's the matter, Bill? Your heart not into it?"

Maxwell took the shot personally. "What?! Me?! Hell, no! I'm cool with that! Point me towards the big green guy and I'll have his be-hind locked up in 5 minutes flat! he won't know what hit him! It's just that I think we're getting distracted by McGee's nonsense, okay? We're supposed to be hunting down Becker, right? He hasn't been seen since Zubov took off with him in his car.

"Hey! I just want to say that I didn't want him to do that!" Fontaine complained from the back seat, his hands cuffed behind his back. "David was a good guy!"

"Unless you have something useful to say, Reggie, shut your mouth!" Bill snapped over his shoulder. He looked to his right, and saw Ralph clutching the greasy rag again, getting his hands oily in the process. "Anything?"

Ralph peered harder into the rear-view mirror, and saw an image appear before him like a weak television signal projected on a cloud.

"Yes! I've got him! He's somewhere indoors. Oh, oh! Kosachov and Zubov are there, too, and they don't look too happy with him!" Ralph replied.

"Okay, okay, we're getting somewhere now! Now how about an address before I run out of gas driving all the way up to Modesto!"

"I'm trying, Bill, I'm trying! It's a little difficult, you know, when I actually want to zero in on the Hulk and stop him before he flattens Los Angeles single-handedly!"

"One bad guy at a time, Ralph, that's all we can do! So! Address, please!"

"Almost...almost...yes! 7400 Bandini Boulevard!"

Bill checked his rear view mirror and laughed out loud as he saw Fontaine's face fall. "Whatsa matter, Reggie? Did my friend sink your battleship? Nailed your Commie friend's address, didn't he!"

Bill pulled over, and Ralph quickly climbed out of the car, confusing Fontaine. The FBI man distracted Fontaine for a few seconds, giving Ralph enough time to get a running start and a strong enough leap to get him airborne. Fontaine looked over his shoulder, and was surprised the clown in the red and black Halloween costume was gone.

"Hey! Where's he gone? There's nobody-"

"Now you see him, now you don't, Reggie! Ha!" Bill laughed, and proceeded to floor his car and catch up to Ralph and their warehouse destination.

David assumed that the older one had to be this Kosachov person that Maxwell and Hinkley were so keen to apprehend. As the three of them approached the waiting men, David was yanked to one side and shoved into a chair, still held at gunpoint by Zubov, while Pam was held by the arm by another Russian-looking Kosachov operative. Kosachov listened to one of his men who was speaking to him in a foreign language- Russian?- that Fontaine was arrested by Maxwell and his partner minutes ago. Kosachov considered this, and mused,

"Zubov saw the handshake between this man, David Becker, and the FBI men. That must have been when the tip-off happened." He eyed David, who looked suffiently worried. "What level FBI status do you have, Becker?"

"I'm not FBI," David answered.

Zubov punched him in the back of the head for that answer.

"I think you are. A mole, perhaps. A sloppy one, but an FBI operative to be sure."  
David winced from the pain, and repeated, "I'm telling you that I don't know anything! I don't know what's going on, or why you're keeping me here! Until today, I never met those men from the FBI! And I never met this woman before, either! Please, just let her go!"

"Then you admit you've had dealings with the Bureau?" Kosachov challenged, ignoring Pam.

"Only just an hour ago! They thought I was with you! Or at least, with Reggie! You've got to believe me- I'm just a nobody, with no ties to the authorities! I was even going to leave town yesterday!"

"You might still get your wish, ," Kosachov threatened, forebodingly. "Only not the way you expected. I believe you 'ratted out' Fontaine, as you Americans say. That makes it very easy to order my associate, Zubov, here to have you killed."

"Green friend not here to protect Americanski!" Zubov taunted, leaning over David's shoulder.

"What are you talking about, Zubov?" Kosachov asked his driver in Russian.

Zubov relayed his story in Russian, as well, of how he'd thrown Becker into the trunk of his car, only to have it attacked by some weird beast with green skin, and that only by good fortune had he crossed paths with him on the street, as he was being driven by Pam.

Kosachov's eyes widened with recognition. "I know you!"

Pam shook her head with wide eyes, her keen analytical mind recognizing Kosachov from the restaurant, but she would deny it until she was red in the face.

"I really don't see how- we haven't been formally introduced."

"At the restaurant, yesterday! You were at table with two gentlemen. Very convenient. And know you chauffeur Becker about town."

"I keep telling you, we don't know each other! Look at my leg- by chance she hit me with her car and was giving me ride home! Nothing more!"

"Is clumsy to run down own FBI operatives, no?" Kosachov asked, eyeing Pam like a predator.

Pam denied knowing David again, but the Russians would have nothing to do with the truth. They spoke in Russian once more, but you wouldn't need to know the dialect that it wasn't a discussion about the weather. The tone of voice and body language clearly indicated that their lives could be measured in minutes.

Another leap into the wild blue yonder, and another shaky flight! Ralph struggled to maintain a decent height and flight path, but it always seemed like the suit had other ideas! He pulled to the left- west- and he found himself climbing even higher than he had to be. Practically five hundred feet above the ground, Ralph worried about landing normally, as usual.

The focused on losing altitude and found himself swinging downward like a pendulum, but a little too fast for his stomach. The ground seemed to tilt and accelerate towards him, making his stomach do somersaults as the traffic below him remained oblivious to the man swooping down on them.

Not to mention the birds.

"Whhoooooaaaa! Looook ouuuuut!" Ralph called out, as he dive-bombed a flock of seagulls, which cawed and cried out in shock at the unexpected human-shaped predator in the skies with them!

Ralph quickly gained control (flying head-first towards the ground kinda did that to you!), and he concentrated on reaching the location he'd told Bill to drive to- Bandini Boulevard. He recognized them from a distance from the hologram he'd focused on, and even this high up in the sky he was able to differentiate between houses, parking lots, and warehouses, even though zeroing in on a location near the ocean made the job easier!

He held his breath and came in for a landing, actually finding his stride, with his feet out first, and touching down at a fast run, but not a crazy one like when he slammed into the Hulk. He looked about his surroundings and was frustrated that they all appeared the same. He'd hologramed into the general location and street address, but not the specific warehouse that Becker was in.

Ralph decided that process of elimination would be the best way to search for him amongst these warehouses, and proceeded to use his speed-running power to dash about the premises.

Pam's heart was beating a mile a minute, just as David's was, as Kosachov's men produced a pair of blindfolds, and roughly tied them around her eyes and those of David's. Her mind raced as she tried to talk her way out of this mess, and said whatever came to mind, even as the man she'd picked up added his voice to hers, overlapping pleas.

"She's an innocent woman! Don't do this to her! It's me you want!"

"Two counts of first-degree murder will put you away for life! Just lock us up, but don't-"

"I'm warning you! Don't do this!"

"People know where I'm supposed to be and might know I'm here! Why not surrender now and the law will go easier on you!"

"Close Americanski mouths, Zubov! I tire of their idiotic accents!" Kosachov groaned in frustration.

Zubov smiled as he roughly tired a second piece of material around David and Pam's mouths, between their teeth so they were reduced to grunting.

"Is done. To pier, boss?" Zubov asked his leader in Russian.

"Yes. And tie something heavy to their feet to keep them submerged until they are dead," Kosachov ordered in Russian.

David's chest hurt enough from his rapid heartbeat, that he was sure he was going to Hulk-out at any second, but somehow he maintained his human form, even as he was picked up, forced to his feet, and led out of the building blindly.

He no longer cared if they saw him turn into the creature, or that they could identify him to McGee, or if a squadron of police officers was outside to greet the Russian criminals- he was going to turn into the Hulk...

..._NOW!_

Nothing.

_NOW!_ he screamed within his mind.

NOW! NOW! CHANGE, DAVID! NOW, DAMMIT!

Still nothing! What was wrong with him?! When he most needed the Hulk, why was he not undergoing the metamorphosis?!

Once outside, they were marched towards a pier where a speedboat awaited a crew or passengers. Seagulls cawed and voiced their hunger for anything the people would throw to them to eat, but Zubov ignored their cries for food.

The salt air of the sea beyond was unmistakeable, as was the proximity they were to the edge of the pier, judging by the lapping waves. Both grunted and tried to make Zubov change his mind as David's and Pam's legs were tied with chains and a weight, but the gags in their mouths prevented any coherent words from being uttered.

"Good riddance, Americanski spy!" Zubov whispered into David's ear with sadistic pleasure, before he shoved David first into the weaving waves below, landing with a harsh back-smashing splash.

Instantly, David began to change even as he sunk below the surface of the water...

Zubov hesitated as he knew he had been ordered to kill the woman, but he feared Kosachov's power to disobey a direct order.

Ralph dashed from warehouse to warehouse, stopping at a suspicious-looking door, except the suit made him holograph in on Pam. He gasped, wide-eyed as he realized that his lover was in danger and for some reason he couldn't understand, she was nearby, right here at Kosachov's warehouse! The warped edges of the holograph pulled away from the ugly big brute holding her near the edge of a dock, and shifted to an exact dock number. Ralph ran liked he'd never run before to find her before she was injured.

David welcomed the change into the Hulk as he sunk below the waves, although he was concerned that the Hulk might be too stupid to save himself and might actually get himself drowned, but he had to risk it! As his conscience lost his intellect, the primitive emotion and gamma radiation-driven creature that dwelled within David's soul began to burst forward, breaking his chains as well as his shirt and shoes as he took the form of the incredible Hulk!

By the time his feet hit the sandy surface, David Banner was gone and the Hulk was looking about, confused. Still, instinct told him to hold his breath, even if he didn't know how he gotten underwater, or why. The Hulk grabbed the uncomfortable chains around his ankles, and easily tore them to pieces with his bare hands. A heavy splash on the surface above him caught his attention, and the sunshine sparkled as the surface was broken as he saw Pam dumped into the water above him.

With his clothing torn off his powerful body, other than tight-fitting jeans, the Hulk caught her sinking form in his arms, and used one hand to break her chains and tear off the weight as Pam struggled. Then she realized, even blindfolded, that's someone (Ralph?!) was helping her!

The Hulk carried her up the nearby ladder of the dock they'd been thrown off and up to the surface of water, where they gladly gulped fresh air.

Ralph arrived on the scene with the screeching sound of a speeding car coming to a stop, livid that he was too late, even as he was shot at by Zubov. However the supersuit easily forced the bullets to bounce off and ricochet harmlessly off his thin body. Unsure what to do with someone wearing protective armor, Zubov figured he might as well use his raw power to punch out the smaller, curly-haired man, and swung his big fist wildly at the man's head.

He felt his hand nearly break as it felt like he'd just punched the tungsten steel of a battleship. He gasped and clutched his damaged hand, when his attention was robbed from behind him. Zubov spun around at the sound of an animalistic roar- the same sound he'd heard from the limousine trunk, and watched with open-mouthed shock as the big green humanoid from before, rose from the dock with the woman in one arm, gently releasing her.

The Hulk approached Zubov with murder in his green eyes, and roared again, looking even more fearsome with shaggy wet hair and glistening green muscles. Pam removed her blindfold and saw Ralph, but also the Hulk. Zubov aimed his gun at the green behemoth, but Ralph smashed the gun away from the Russian, then punched him in the jaw with anger. Zubov went flying from the surprisingly-powerful punch, and staggered directly into the Hulk. He offered a few weak punches that the Hulk didn't even feel, before the giant picked him up with one hand and threw him thirty feet into water.

The Hulk then turned his attention to what he perceived was his next threat, recognizing Ralph from their earlier fight.

"Okay, big boy- you want Round 2, I'm ready for you this time!" an angry Ralph announced, holding up his dukes.

Pam ran to Ralph, intercepting the stalking beast of a man, confusing the Hulk, who gradually seemed to understand Pam's actions that they were friends and meant no harm.

"He's incredible!" Pam said in awe, looking the 7-foot tall green giant up and down, her brown eyes wide with wonder. "What is he, I wonder? A genetic freak of nature or...Ralph? Another alien species? A different one than the kind that gave you the suit?"

"Let's find out," Ralph said, carefully approaching the Hulk, who stared at him like an animal protecting its space, but not angry enough to attack. Ralph hoped his facial features showed that he wasn't an enemy, and tried to smile in the face of the powerful humanoid creature.

"Friends!" Ralph said, holding out his hand to shake. The Hulk just looked down at him, as confused as a bird confronted with a algebra. "Friends," Ralph repeated, adding, "We mean you no harm. Thank you for saving Pam."

The Hulk tilted his head in confusion, but his eyes darted to Pam. She patted her chest. "I'm Pam. What's your name? Can you talk?"

The Hulk growled.

"I doubt it. We could be here all day, trying to talk to this Hulk creature. I doubt he understands a single word of English."

"I can't believe that McGee was telling the truth about the existence of the creature!" Pam said. "All those stories were true!"

Ralph nodded tentatively. "At least as far as the creature's existence. McGee thought he was responsible for the murder of two scientists, but he's about as murderous as a houseplant! He could have killed Zubov, but he didn't."

Bill and Fontaine arrived at the warehouses, and called Ralph on his communicator. With instructions to lead him to the pier, Bill slowly drove through the maze of identical buildings, so as to not draw attention from his car engine, and found the one he was looking for.

"What about me?" a handcuffed Fontaine asked from the back seat.

"What about you?" Bill sneered derisively. "You can sit and stew in the hot sun for all I care! Might burn out some of those nasty anti-American tendencies that make you so despicable, Fontaine!"

Bill slammed his door shut, with Fontaine locked inside the car without the windows down so much as a half inch. Already sweating from his suit jacket and tie, he rolled onto his back in the back seat, lifted his feet and tried to kick open the door, then the window, as Bill searched on foot.

"Òkay, kid, bring me in!"  
Ralph directed Bill to them by pressing a remote tracker button on the communicator, and added, "I think you're in for a surprise, Bill! A big _green _surprise!"

Kosachov was on the radio to the submarine that was scheduled to arrive, and told them to surface. "Will meet you via speedboat. E.T.A. 15 minutes."

Getting one of his numerous lackeys to find out why Zubov was taking so long, he quickly began to organize his papers for his boat trip, while the tough-looking Russian thug went outside, only to see Ralph, Pam, and the Hulk several yards away. Assuming that they were intruders, the Russian whipped out a gun and was ready to open fire, until he was suddenly knocked out from behind by Bill.

"One down, who knows how many to go," Bill mumbled to himself, watching the bad guy lying still on the ground, as deeply into unconsciousness as Bill hoped he would be. He looked up at Ralph and Pam, expecting praise and a 'thank you', until he saw a giant of a man (or thing?), green-skinned and clenching his teeth with barely-restrained fury. Thinking that the Hulk was dangerous he pointed his gun at him, yelling out, "Ralph! Counsellor! Look out behind you!"

Even with Bill aiming his gun at the Hulk, the

the green giant simply sneered at him, growling like a lion, and snatched the weapon out of Bill's hand, crushing the pistol like an eggshell. With his point made, the Hulk shoved Bill away, forcing the FBI agent to stagger backwards and land on his behind, much to his shock and the others, as they leaped to help him up.

"Holy cow, he's strong!" Bill gasped, as he stared wide-eyed and unblinking at the phenomenon before him. "Who is he? _What is he?!"_

"The Hulk, apparently," Pam told him. "McGee's white whale, so to speak."

Before they could continue, wavy images in Ralph's peripheral vision told him that he was getting another hologram, this time of a surfacing submarine.

Bill spun around and looked out to sea but couldn't be sure if he could see anything out there. "It's gotta be Kosachov's contact, Ralph! You've got to catch it and disable it."

"'Catch and disable' a _submarine_, Bill?! What do I look like?! Neptune, King of the Seven Seas!"

"You've got the suit- be creative!"

"Bill-" Pam began to protest, until Bill stopped her.

"Counsellor, there's an enemy submarine in American waters illegally, bringing weapons into this country for loads of bad guys to buy and use to kill innocent people! Ralphie-boy is the only one of us capable of flying out to meet it and do...something..._anything_...to bust it! Now, c'mon, Ralph, up and at 'em before they dive back under the sea and we lose our only chance!"

Ralph nodded, his mind racing with doubts about what even he could do against a nuclear-powered sub! He backed up several yards so he could get a running start, and leaped into the air, becoming airborne...in a wiggling, cockeyed sort of way that confused the Hulk very much.

Another of Kosachov's men arrived on the scene and started firing at Bill, Pam and the Hulk, so they found cover behind one of Kosachov's cars. Bill fired back, but his angle was off too much to get a decent shot, and only managed to keep the Russian pinned down around the side of the door.

Unfortunately, the bad guy had a much bigger gun...and lots more bullets.

Ralph flew as fast as he knew how out to see, but as usual, not in a straight line, or even at the same altitude. The blue waters of the Pacific raced up towards him, he yelped in fear of smashing into the sea, and found his body twisting upwards and back up into the wild blue yonder. He steadied himself with forceful, desperate thoughts of controlling his fear of flying in the supersuit, and just like that he was able to spot the conning tower of the enemy sub dead ahead!

"Now would be a good time for a plan!" he mumbled to himself.

The Hulk hated the sound of gunfire, and even his instincts told him that if he wanted it to stop, he would have to smash it! With the car pointing in the wrong direction, the Hulk thrust his hands onto the passenger doors on the right side, and began to push the 2000-pound automobile sideways across the edge of the pier towards the warehouse! Bill, Pam, and Kosachov's man couldn't believe what they were seeing!

The tires screeched and smeared black rubber streaks across the ground, as the metal of the car creaked and protested as the powerful gamma-ray-powered giant pushed the car sideways several yards towards the Russian. Bill recovered quickly from his shock, pulling Pam close to the car to ensure her safety and cover from incoming fire, then fired two quick shots from his own gun, making the Russian twist and fall to the ground in an effort to avoid the bullets. The next thing he knew, the Russian thug was pinned against the wall with the car, thanks to the Hulk shoving it all the way to the edge of the warehouse.

"Great work- uh, whatever your name is! Uh, yeah! Okay, big guy- sic 'em!" Bill laughed, waving an arm towards the open door of the warehouse, in an attempt to convince the Hulk that the bad guys were inside. The creature looked at him with the understanding of a puppy, and turned to leave.

"I thought he'd help us! I thought he'd smash them or somethin'!" Bill complained.

"He's going to! Look out, Bill!" Pam cried out as the Hulk picked up a huge packing crate that must have weighed over 500 pounds, and threw it into the door, smashing it in with the sound of a bomb going off and creating an entrance big enough for a tank to drive through!

Bill fired cover fire and called out Kosachov to surrender, but the Russian wasn't about to make it easy!

They were attacked by yet another of Kosachov's men, this one driving a forklift straight at Bill! Without the reflexes to get out of the way in time, Bill was ready to see his life flash before his eyes, until something grabbed him by the collar, lifted him off the floor and swing him in a wide arc all in one motion, even as a vicious, challenging roar was released by the guttural vocal chords of the Hulk!

The monster stopped the forklift in its tracks with one arm, as he set a dizzy Bill Maxwell down away from the machine that was spinning its wheels. Bill and Pam just watched in awe as the Hulk growled and lunged for the vehicle and then used both of his powerful arms to lift it off the floor and turn it over onto its side, trapping the wayward Russian criminal inside it.

Ralph crashed into the conning tower of the sub.

He didn't really mean to, but after circling once around twice, he simply lost altitude and landed inside the upper pit with a heavy thud at the top of the ship where the periscope and antennae were located. The impact even made the submarine rock from the hit, jostling the confused crew inside, who were beginning to think that they'd been torpedoed!

Recovering quickly, he jumped up to his feet, grasped the periscope, and tore it off from its floor connections. Next, he wound up one arm to his chest, and with a swift motion flung his hand out in a karate chop-like slice, severing every electronic antenna the ship possessed, effectively rendering them blind from inside and destroying their radio capability.

Jumping down to the tower's portside stabilizer fin 'on one side of the conning tower, Ralph rubbed his hands together in expectation of a tough job, grasped the edge of the fin and pulled back with all his might, ripping it slightly as he bent the fin completely out of shape, and making it impossible for the sub to submerge and travel underwater normally.

However, that didn't stop the crew from firing up the engines, and turning the sub's nose towards the open sea. With the wind blowing through his blond curls, Ralph jumped down to the upper superstructure of the submarine, and ripped off the circular escape hatch, calling for the crew to surrender. Responding with gunfire, Ralph shrugged his shoulders, and mumbled to himself,

"Òkay. We do this the hard way!", before he jumped off the ship into the sea.

Pounding his legs faster than any human could, thanks to the alien supersuit, Ralph swam out in front of the sub, turned around in a wide arc, and headed straight for the ship! With his palms outstretched before him, he slammed into the bow of the Russian submarine, and felt himself come to a stop at the same time as the vessel was halted. Kicking faster and faster, the supersuit proved more than a match for the sub's propellers, as Ralph's power and momentum forced the ship back, back, back towards land.

Unable to see where he was going, but knowing that he was winn ing, Ralph head his breath in the foaming, splashing Pacific waters as the submarine's engines groaned in protest. A minute later, he could see that he was in shallow water, and seconds after that, his incredible alien-enhanced strength had beached the entire Russian submarine! The tail end of the sub continued to spin it's propellers, but it was to no avail- they were out of the water and more than fifteen feet above the surface of the sandy beach!

Ralph climbed out of the sea, soaking wet and a little tired, but satisfied with his task as he looked up at the helpless beached enemy sub.

"I guess I got a little creative!" he smiled to himself.

Bill searched for Kosachov and quickly ended up exchanging gun fire once the Russian saw him in pursuit within the warehouse. The building echoed with bullets flying everywhere, missing their targets but hitting walls, pillars, and crates.

"I surrender! Do not fire! I am surrendering!" Kosachov called out, once his gun had become silent, even going so far as to throwing it away.

"Attaboy, comrade! Good idea for once, chump! You're no match for a good ol' American marksmanship, ain't ya?" Maxwell bragged.

Once Bill was close enough to Kosachov, the Russian suddenly produced another gun from a hidden holster, bringing both he and the FBI agent into a Mexican stand-off- both with point-blank range on their side, but also against them. Neither would miss at this distance, but neither was willing to make the first shot, either.

"Give it up, Igor! You can't win!"

"Then I vill take you vith me!" the Russian sneered, his forehead shiny with nervous sweat.

The Hulk looked on, confused as ever.

"Mister Green-Guy! All right! Grab him! Go! What's the matter, green guy?! Can't you tell the good guys from the bad?!" Bill groaned, as the Hulk simply stared at the two men pointing their guns at each other.

Pam arrived on the scene off to the left, running right into the tense confrontation, forcing Kosachov to fire a single warning shot towards her. Pam yelped from fear, and took cover, which was enough to tell the Hulk's primitive, limited intelligence who was not on his side.

He charged Kosachov, picked him up and threw him into the same damaged packing crate he'd fired his shot into, exposing additional hidden guns from previous orders. The Russian's head lolled forward, knocked unconscious.

"Oh, sure! Green Giant here helps the dame but not the Fed!" Bill complained.

Sirens erupted from outside, garnering the green behemoth's attention. He looked between Pam and Bill, and ascertaining that they were safe, the Hulk left, moving surprisingly fast for such a big man. He dashed towards a side door on the opposite side of where the sirens were blaring, and bashed it down, only to run into an escaping Reggie Fontaine.

The Hulk roared at him, clenching and unclenching his green fists, scaring him enough to make the escaped criminal stop running and cower by the door. Bill ran up to them, but the Hulk bolted away.

"Okay, Reggie, let's go! Back to my car with you!" Bill sighed, picking up the shivering American traitor.

"Who-who-who was that? _What was that?!"_

Bill smiled at the creature that was gone from his sight seconds later, and shrugged, "Well, he sure ain't the _little _green guys I usually deal with!"

"Whaaat?!" Reggie whispered, but Bill ignored him.

"No!" Bill sneered, emphatically.

"An exclusive! Your name in print! Even your photo on the cover of the _National Register_!" Jack McGee pleaded, practically running after Maxwell, who was quickly walking towards his car in the FBI Building parking lot.

"No way! I'd rather have my name plastered in big goofy Russian letters on today's copy of _Pravda_!"

"You're being completely uncooperative, Mr. Maxwell!"

"You betcha!"

"And that'll just force my article to suggest an elaborate FBI scheme and cover-up that involves the Hulk!"

Bill laughed in McGee's face, and added, "Fine! It'll look real good with your previous stories about talking cars, secret government mountain installations, and strange lights in the desert!"

McGee slapped his sides in frustration at yet another evasive witness, another dead end, and yet another Hulk sighting with no resolution. The Hulk showed up at a pier, damaged a warehouse, and made his escape before the cops secured the area.

He hadn't been seen again since then.

Bill flopped into his car, started the engine, and gunned it out of the parking lot, waiting until he was through the gate to release a sigh of relief.

Man, that guy was persistent! Another five minutes with him, and McGee would find out about Ralph, the supersuit, and the little green guys!

Later, Bill found himself at Ralph's house (coincidently, Pam noted, again around dinner time), and was debriefing his team as he helped himself to some food.

"So, Kosachov's had it- he's in so far that his great-great-great grandkids won't even have his name after the Fed's through with him! The big dummy kept excellent records, which was good for him as a business man, but it sucks when you get arrested for arms dealing! Uhhh...what is this again?"

"Cornish hen," am told him.

"Kinda small."

"That's as big as they get, Bill," Ralph sighed.

"Eh. So anyways, Reggie Fontaine will be put away about as long, too! The dope really screwed himself by aligning himself with a kook like Kosachov!" He used a serving spoon to dig up a heaping helping of something, hesitated as he brought it to his plate, sniffed it, and made a face. "What's this?"

"Turnips," Pam replied.

"Yuck! No thanks! Hated 'em ever since I was a kid! Why don't you guys have some normal veggies here like peas and carrots?"

"I'll be sure to put it on my next grocery list!" Ralph said, sarcastically. "So what about Becker?"  
"Ahhhh, ol' mystery man, David Becker, a.k.a. Mister Nobody! Pass the salt, please."

Ralph did so, and repeated, "'Mister Nobody'?"

"Yea! Seems our wayward employee of the now-defunct Reggie's GasBar isn't who he said he was! Probably some drifter, some guy scoring a job here and there and moving on for a living. The more I dug into his background, the less and less I was able to find, until I discovered his I.D. was fake. Doesn't matter much now, anyway, since he cut the scene and hasn't been seen from since. Is this normal salt or garlic salt?"

"Normal," Ralph answered.

"It tastes funny."

"Maybe because you've added too much to your potatoes? And anyways, Bill, this is another free dinner on my part, so why not just eat what we have and not make a big deal about any every little thing?" an annoyed Ralph asked, frustrated that another night with Pam was being interrupted by Bill.

"Hey, what do you want from me? I brought dessert, didn't I?"  
"Oh, that's right," Pam nodded. "I didn't thank you for my _Snickers_ bar!"  
"Anytime, sweetheart," Bill nodded, his face planted over his plate and oblivious to the sarcasm. "So, Becker's testimony didn't matter in the long run. Too bad we can't find him now."  
"Well, Bill don't you think you should issue a missing persons alert or something?" Ralph asked, concerned. "After all, I holographed into him being kidnapped!"  
"Doesn't matter, Ralph. He was nowhere to be found, and got thrown into the drink at the same time as the Counsellor. My guess is that Hulky green guy thing found him underwater first, yanked off his restraints and then helped Pam, here. Trust my instincts on this one, boys and girls- David whoever just swam away to avoid some embarrassing questions and being indicted on charges of helping Fontaine. Ferget about him."

Bill stopped chewing and made a face. "Might have to skip over those parts of the big green guy scenario on my report to Carlisle, however!"

"Ya think?" Ralph smiled.

"Yepper! Anyways, howsabout a toast? To the greatest team ever! Even you, Counsellor! Except about that whole almost drownin' part, but you did good, honey, you did!"

"Gee, thanks, Bill!" she smirked, unimpressed, and shivered as she remembered how cold the water felt.

"Well?"

"Well, what, Bill?" Ralph asked.

"I wanna make a toast! So go get us some wine or beer or whatever you kids keep in your liquor cabinet! Don't leave me hanging here, buddy!"

Ralph sighed, and slowly got up from the table, his food getting colder, but Pam's temper getting higher.

David felt his shoulder being rocked by an inquisitive hand, originally mistaking the movement for the rocking of the bus he was on. He opened his sleepy eyes and found himself looking up at the driver, aware that most of the seats of the Greyhound bus were empty.

The older, portly driver smiled down at him and said, "Son, I think you missed your stop! I'm sorry, but I only just noticed you dozing back here! Where were you heading?"

David woke up quickly, searched his jacket pocket and produced his ticket. "Albuquerque."

The old driver's face fell, and he blushed in the mid-afternoon light. "Ooooh, dang! I'm sorry, my boy! We left Albuquerque hours ago! You're in Roswell at the moment!"

"Oh," David frowned.

"If you want, I can arrange for a round-trip fare back the way we came to-"

"No, no, that's okay," David smiled, and gathered his travel bag from the upper holding ledge. "I'll just get off here and look around. Might even wind up staying a while!"

"Are you sure?" the embarrassed driver asked, concern on his features.

"I am. Don't worry about it."

David Banner got off the bus, and surveyed his surroundings, wondering what new last name to use this time, if Jack McGee would finally lose his trail, and if he could control the raging spirit that dwelled within him.

nt here...


End file.
